


Unshakeable

by Ohhhmyloki



Category: Loki - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Lemon, Loki/original female character - Freeform, Oneshot, Romance, Smut, loki romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 07:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15552351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohhhmyloki/pseuds/Ohhhmyloki
Summary: Loki x OCGenre: pure explicit smut / oneshotSynopsis: Take place just after TDW. Loki, having survived his injuries on the Dark World, returns to Asgard to recover. His crimes are forgiven, but Odin decides to marry him off to a specially chosen Asgardian woman in the hopes that marriage will soften his heart and make him a better man.also can be found on tumblr: https://ohhhmyloki.tumblr.com





	Unshakeable

 

She was beautiful, at least: this woman that Odin had chosen for him–-that  _Frigga_  had chosen.

Long dark hair. Smooth, caramel complexion. Eyes so dark they appeared black, rimmed with long, dark lashes.

He’d never seen her before. They’d plucked her from one of the country estates; the daughter of a lower-level nobleman.

 _It was your mother’s wish to see you happily wed_ , Odin had told him.  _She believed it would do you well to have a family of your own._

Figga, forever seeking to heal him. Even from the grave.

Loki would have refused the match, if not for her. Even now, a year later, the pain of Frigga’s loss was a raw, bleeding wound. He considered this marriage the fulfillment of her dying wish.

It was a very small comfort to give her that.

Well, and Odin had threatened to exile him if he refused.

Still, it rankled unbearably. He stood in the great hall, at the edge of the dancefloor, surrounded by dozens of Asgardian nobles, seething silently as they celebrated his engagement.

The air was full of music and the smells of the feast. People were dancing, laughing.

She was standing on the other side of the dancefloor, amongst a group of ladies in glittering dresses, listening politely to their chatter. Not smiling. Not laughing.

The dress she wore would have set her apart from the rest, even if her looks and demeanor hadn’t. She was the only woman dressed in his colors–-vibrant green and gold. The neckline of the gown was wide and low, exposing a delicious expanse of chest and shoulder, drawing the eye to the smooth upper curves of her breasts.

It was strange to think that very soon he would have the pleasure of that sleek body warming his bed. Every night.

For the rest of his life.

 _Very_  strange. Though not particularly disagreeable.

They’d been introduced that morning, before Odin and the girl’s simpering father. She’d looked at him steadily as he bowed over her hand. Responded with flawless aristocratic manners to his welcome. Soft, measured voice. Dark eyes showing intelligence, but no reticence.

She hadn’t smiled then, either.

She’d sat beside him at Odin’s table during supper, sharing a plate with him. Responding pleasantly when addressed. Listening intently to his polite conversation. Showing absolutely nothing of her true feelings about the arrangement.

For some reason, it made him feel restless. Itchy.  _Angry._  He wanted to peel her apart and examine her inner workings.

If Frigga had really chosen her, there must be something extraordinary about her. Besides her beauty and that unshakeable equanimity.

She looked at him then-–as if she’d known all along that he stood there watching her-–and her gaze was like a physical touch.

There was a spark of something in her eyes--some emotion that drew him inexorably across the crowded room to her.

The ladies fell quiet as he approached.

“My Lady,” he murmured, holding out his hand to her.

She looked down as she placed her hand in his, unhesitating, lips parting slightly. Beautiful lips. Well-defined and not overfull. Dark pink, unpainted.

He led her silently into the dancefloor and drew her into his arms because it was the appropriate thing to do–-this was their engagement celebration and they were expected to dance-–but what he really wanted was to take her someplace private and crack her open like an egg.

He looked down at her face as they fell into step--one hand on the sharp indent of her waist, the other cupping her slender hand–-and found her steady gaze unexpectedly…unnerving.

Drawing her closer–-rather inappropriately close–-aiming to unnerve  _her_ , he murmured, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Not really,” she answered calmly, showing not the slightest discomfort with his familiarity.

He was holding her so close her breasts were nearly touching his chest, looking at her darkly.

“And why is that?” he asked.

“I don’t particularly like parties,” she responded, gaze dropping to his mouth. “Are you going to kiss me?”

The question startled him. He’d been leaning in, crowding her purposely to see if she would shrink away. She hadn’t.

“I was considering it.” 

“Seems rather an awkward time to kiss someone, while dancing,” she murmured.

“Oh?” he managed, struggling to hide his surprise.

“Too many things to think about at once,” she explained. “Feet and hands and…” she glanced at a couple who sailed by very close, “Other people.”

“Would you prefer that I took you someplace more private and kissed you?”

He waited for her to blush, or cringe, or maybe even get angry, but of course, she did none of those things.

“Well, I would like to leave,” she said. “Though not specifically for the purposes of kissing you.”

 _Not specifically, huh?_  Loki’s mood darkened. He turned and dragged her off the dance floor, between the broad golden pillars that lined the hall, and out onto the wide stone walkway that led down to the gardens.

It was dark out here, the air carrying a briskness that spoke of the coming winter.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Loki spun and backed her towards one of the pillars that lined the walkway, using his body and the heavy shadows to menace her.

She didn’t scramble back quite as quickly as he would have liked, but her retreat was gratifying nonetheless.

“Have I offended you, Your Majesty?” she murmured, coming to a stop with her back against the broad pillar.

“Not in the least,” he growled, crowding her mercilessly. Stepping so close that her skirts enveloped his legs and he could smell the faint jasmine perfume she wore.

She was breathing a little fast now. Good.

“Do I frighten you, my Lady?”

Her face was very close, looking up at him, eyes wide and incredibly black.

“You’re certainly trying to,” she replied, with just the slightest edge of breathlessness. “And please call me Astra.”

“Astra,” he growled, enjoying the way her breasts swelled against the neckline of her gown as she breathed.

“You’re angry,” she said softly. “Have I done something?”

He wasn’t just angry though–-at least, not anymore. He was suddenly quite aroused instead.

“I want to know why you agreed to this marriage,” he grated, stepping closer until their bodies were nearly touching.

Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “You do understand the mechanics of an arranged marriage, do you not?”

Still, her face showed no fear. Was it excitement that made her breathless? She was looking at his mouth again.

Loki growled, low and soft.  _Cheeky woman_. Talking back. Looking at him like she wanted to be kissed.

He put his hands on the pillar on either side of her narrow shoulders, leaning in boldly, until he was too close to meet her gaze. She rested her head against the stone and closed her eyes.

“Are you claiming that you were forced?” he murmured, letting her feel his breath on her cheek. Looking down at her body.

“No, your Majesty,” she whispered, “I was….strongly encouraged.”

Gods, she smelled divine. He could see straight down the dress from this angle.

Mouthwatering.

“You could have refused,” he said, letting his chest come against her breasts, gratified by the little gust of breath she released at the contact.

“Yes, I could have,” she whispered. “But I didn’t.”

He was being incredibly forward. Utterly inappropriate. Disrespectful, even. Yet she showed not the slightest hint of resistance, damn her.

“Tell me why,” he murmured, leaning into her until they were pressed torso to torso and he could feel her chest expanding with each breath. He let his lips graze her ear. “Because I’m a prince?”

She shivered.

“Is it because you wanted to live in this golden palace and wear the finest dresses?”

Eyes still closed, she shook her head.

“Why then?”

He’d pulled his head back to look at her, simultaneously allowing his hips to rest against hers.

She gasped. Her eyes popped open and a flush crept slowly up her chest.

He was rock hard.

“B-because I liked you,” she breathed.

“You liked me,” he repeated, glaring. “We never met before this morning.”

“I know.”

 _By the Gods_. “Are you saying that you agreed to marry me based upon that single meeting?”

She nodded and-–much to Loki’s surprise-–he felt her hands settle lightly above his hips.

Her touch was like a match to dry kindling. Lust pulsed along every vein.

“And what did you like so much that you decided to give yourself to me at that moment?”

Her eyelids fluttered downward, shielding her gaze from him. “They didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?” he demanded.

“Our mothers were friends,” she murmured. Her hands crept slowly up his sides. “They trained together.”

“They trained-–" he broke off, because the combination of her touch and the implication of her words robbed him of speech for a moment.

She looked up at him then, and for the first time, her expression was a little guarded. Vulnerable, even.

“Your mother was a Volva,” he said in realization. “A Seer, like mine.”

She nodded.

“And you have her gifts,” he added.

Again, she nodded.

Loki stared her down for a moment, wondering…

“What did you see when we met this morning?”

The vulnerability was still there in her gaze, but Loki also saw heat. Hunger. That heat echoed through his body and made his cock jerk against her.

“Passion,” she replied softly. “I saw passion.”

Her hands were tracing his ribcage, feather-light through the fabric of his tunic. Hesitant.

“And that was enough for you,” he rumbled, “Passion alone?”

“Most people never experience true passion,” she replied. And then, very quietly, “Are you going to kiss me, Loki?”

Bending to her mouth, he growled, “I’m going to do a hell of a lot more than that.” 

If it was passion she wanted, then passion she would get. In fact, he would see just how much of it she could handle.

He took that first kiss with a slow, penetrating sort of dominance, pushing her lips apart and flooding her mouth with his tongue. It was not the way one kissed a lady–-especially not for the first time.  _Especially_  not one’s soon-to-be-wife.

But he still wanted to put her off balance. Wanted to see that damnable composure crumble completely.

With that in mind, he held nothing back. The kiss was a blatant promise; this was just the way he planned to fuck her. Deep. Rough. Utterly dominating.

Any well-bred lady should have been frightened by such unrestrained sexual aggression. Or at least overwhelmed.

Instead, she clutched him closer and sucked his tongue, exhaling in a soft, shuddering gush as he pressed her hard to the pillar, grinding his cock into her belly.

And then she nipped his lower lip with her teeth.

When he retaliated by taking both her breasts in a rough, possessive grasp, she moaned instead of being shocked. Arched into his grip when he expected her to shy away.

Frustrated, painfully aroused, he grabbed her legs and lifted her between his body and the pillar, using his knee to open her thighs so he could wedge his hips against her and press the stiff ridge of his cock between her legs.

She gasped. Wrapped her legs around his hips, skirts rustling softly.

 _Bloody damnable woman!_  Was there nothing he could do to unnerve her?

He kissed her throat, yanking the bodice of her dress down off her shoulders until both breasts popped free–-waiting for her denial and hearing none.

And then he sucked them roughly, vengefully, pulling each nipple deep into his mouth, pestering them into stiff little points until they stood deliciously distended above the fabric of the dress. She whimpered and dug her fingers into his shoulders.

“Look how lovely they are,” he growled wickedly, touching them with one hand, dragging his fingers over the hard little nubs. “Shall I suck them some more?”

Her expression was slack, eyes glazed. Even in the dark, she was visibly flushed. Her mouth opened, but there was no response, just her panting breath.

_Good._

Loki rocked his hips, grinding into her sex through all the layers of clothing, watching her jerk and gasp. 

Abruptly, he put her down, bending so they were nose to nose, holding her gaze as he took two fistfuls of her skirts.

“Are you wet?” he asked, low and dark, lifting her skirts very slowly. “When I put my hand between your legs, will I find you slick, Astra?”

Her eyelids fluttered and the one word came on a voiceless breath.

“Yes.”

Loki growled again, this time purely out of lust–-and anticipation.

He had her skirts up around her hips now. “Hold them,” he ordered roughly.

She took the bunched fabric in both hands and Loki let go, bracing one hand on the pillar again, the other brushing her knee, knuckles dragging over sleek muscle and velvet skin until he felt silk. The slit in her drawers was easy to find, and she made no protest, just stood there panting, watching his face with slightly unfocused eyes.

When his hands found naked flesh again–-and warm, damp curls–-he paused.

“If you let me do this now I’m going to fuck you.”

Her eyes widened, but still no protest. No shock or anger.

“I’ll turn you around and take you from behind, right here against this pillar,” he threatened, deliberately crude. “But first I’m going to put my fingers inside you, because I want to feel how wet you are.”

She swallowed loudly. Licked her lips. Maybe she didn’t believe him.

The thought made him furious.

“Are you a virgin?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Good, because I’m not going to be gentle.”

With that, he parted the lips of her sex and slid his fingers into hot, slick flesh.

She gasped, hips twitching, hands tightening in her skirts.

“Someone could come along at any time,” he murmured, penetrating her slowly, listening to her sharp intake of breath. “And they’re going to see you standing here with your breasts exposed, holding your skirts up so I can stroke you.” Matching word with deed, he withdrew his fingers from the tight little mouth of her sex and stroked her clit, fingers wet, rolling the hard little nub in a leisurely circle.

Astra cried out–-unwillingly, he realized, because she snapped her teeth together quickly and bit her lip.

“Yes, do try to be quiet,” he murmured. “I should hate to be interrupted now.”

Her ragged breath echoed in the open air as he stroked her, dipping his fingers inside, kissing her fiercely and swallowing her little whimpers. Losing himself to it–-to her. Forgetting entirely that he’d only meant to antagonize her.

He brought her right to the edge and then took his hand away, breaking the kiss to look down as he tore at the placket of his trousers, suddenly desperate for her touch on his cock.

Hearing the way her breath caught, he looked up, cold autumn air embracing his naked sex. “You want this?” he murmured, watching her look, stroking himself a little just to see her eyes widen.

She swallowed again, licking her lips nervously. Whispered, “Yes.”

“Close your legs,” he said, moving closer, placing a boot on either side of her slippered feet and tugging her hips forward with one hand. “Lean back.”

She did, shoulders against the pillar, hips thrust out, body arched beautifully.

“Don’t let go of your skirts,” he ordered, crowding closer until his thighs were bracketing hers. He pulled at the slit in her drawers until it gaped, exposing the little patch of dark curls and the seam of her thighs. “Lift more,” he rasped, holding her there as he took his cock in hand and guided it to the lips of her sex.

She moaned as he pushed inside, head rolling toward her shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

Loki groaned raggedly. The position made her incredibly tight.

“Look,” he commanded, breathless with the pleasure of it. “Watch me fuck you.”

Her eyes opened and he held her hips with both hands, thrusting slowly, until only the very base of his cock was visible, dark curls meeting dark curls.

They both watched as he withdrew, thick shaft gleaming with her wetness.

And then he began to thrust with purpose, growling at her when her eyes closed again, demanding that she watch, deeply aroused by the wild gleam of pleasure in her eyes.

When she began to whimper he took a fold of her skirt and lifted it to her mouth. “Bite it,” he rasped. “I’m not going to stop if someone hears you.”

She let him tuck the fabric between her teeth, panting raggedly around it. Whimpers muffled now as he began to thrust faster, jolting her body, making her breasts bounce.

“Astra,” he gasped when she began to move with him, hips rolling to meet his thrusts. “ _Yes. Valhalla_ , that’s good!” and then, seeing that she was close, he took one hand from her hip and used his thumb to stroke her clit firmly up and down.  

Just like that she snapped tight, screaming low and hoarsely around the fabric of her skirt. Loki thrust hard into the rippling channel of her sex, holding her steady while she shook and moaned.

As soon as her pleasure ebbed he pulled out and flipped her around, pinning her hands against the column and growling in her ear, “My turn.”

He yanked the skirts up over her ass and thrust inside, groaning hoarsely at the pleasure of the angle–-the deeper penetration—pumping hard and fast, racing towards his own orgasm.

Astra pushed back into his thrusts, spine bowing prettily, smooth globes of her ass half exposed by the slit of her silk drawers.

“Deep,” he heard himself mumble, pumping to the hilt. Bumping her cervix and making her tremble. “Astra.  _Shit_. I’m going to come.”

He pressed her tight to the column, pinning her flat, making his last few thrusts in a blind,  animal haze. “Inside,” he whispered roughly, pleasure searing his nerve endings. “Coming inside you,  _Wife_.”

His cocked jumped once, twice, and then again. And again. Each spurt filling her wetly.

When it was over he stood there panting into her perfumed hair, listening to her ragged breath.

He’d forgotten all about his determination to crumble her composure–-gotten swept away in the pleasure of her responses, her willingness. Her passion.

He’d just taken his fiance in a public place, like a common whore. He hadn’t planned to, of course. He’d only wanted to antagonize her a little.

Loki disengaged from her gently and she turned, tugging her bodice up, face half obscured by her hair.

He tucked himself in and closed his trousers, then helped her smooth her wrinkled skirts.

“You look thoroughly ravished,” he said quietly, touching her hair, fighting a twinge of guilt. “You can’t return to the party in this state.”

Finally, she looked up. “You look just as princely as you did half an hour ago.” She sighed, “That’s a bit unfair.”

There was not a ghost of recrimination in her voice or on her face. In fact, she looked… _happy_. Standing there with her dress all rumpled and her hair in disarray, with his seed no doubt trickling down her inner thighs.

Well, he’d figured out what was so special about her–-his beautiful Seer with the passionate nature and the unshakeable disposition.

She was perfect, he realized. The perfect compliment to a temperamental God of Mischief.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

She stepped closer, peering up into his face. “You look upset.”

“I’m not,” he growled, experiencing a fresh surge of desire as her scent tickled his nose.

Astra looked at him for a long moment and he felt oddly naked, despite his engagement party finery.  

When she spoke again, the words took him by surprise. “Am I allowed to touch you freely?”

 _By Vallhalla_. “Of course you are.”

“Oh, excellent.” She smiled, and Loki realized with a jolt that it was the first time she had smiled since he’d met her.

It was dazzling–-straight white teeth, dark eyes glittering with pleasure.

While he stood immobilized by that smile, she reached up and cupped his cheeks, drawing him down very gently for a kiss.

A soft, melting,  _amorous_  kiss, unlike anything any woman had given him before.

“I will remember this day for the rest of my life,” she murmured against his lips, kissing the corners of his mouth, and then his cheeks. “Thank you.”

‘ _Thank you,’_  he thought blankly.  _I fucked her against a column where anyone could have seen us and she says ‘thank you’?_

She kissed his mouth again–-sweet, languid glide of lips and tongue-–and Loki felt as though his world was tipping.

“I’m going to return to my rooms,” she said, stepping back. “Will you make some sort of excuse for me? Tell everyone I’ve retired with a headache, perhaps?”

“Yes, of course,” he said. No one would believe it though. They’d all seen him take his fiance to the gardens. There was a reason not a single person had come outside since they’d left the ballroom.

“And will you come to me tonight?”

Surprised, he blinked at her. “To your rooms?”

“Yes,” she smiled again. “Unless you prefer to wait until after the wedding?”

Loki growled with renewed passion. “I could have you again right now.”

Her smile widened beautifully. “Perhaps you could retire with a headache, too?”

Unbelievable, outrageous,  _utterly delightful_  woman.

 _My woman_ , he realized, feeling it was real for the first time; pulling her into his arms with a wicked look and bending to kiss her. “I  _am_  feeling rather peaky, now that you mention it.”


End file.
